I just love how I'm in Austin for copy editing training, and I realized I spelled "its" wrong in yesterday's blog. I hate myself more than you could possibly know.

I'm finding myself becoming more sensitive to people's comments. There are a couple of people here who can be very hostile (both in class and during such innocent activities as playing Trivial Pursuit). I sometimes just want to run out of the room crying; I just can't understand why people can't be nice, especially to near-strangers. I feel like a couple of people are casting a shadow over my entire experience. I'm guessing a lot of my sensitivity is due to overexerting myself. I'm in class from 9-5, and we have dinner shortly thereafter. When we get back from dinner, we go shopping or to the bars. I don't get to sleep until 1 or 2 a.m., and wake up around 7:30 the next day. I went to bed around 12 last night, and the difference in my attitude is amazing. I really wish I never had to sleep.

We're working on news design now. I feel doubly lost, having no experience on a Mac, and not knowing a lot about Quark. I'm actually fairly proficient in Quark, but I don't know any of the terminology or Mac shortcuts. Let's just say I prefer headline writing and copy editing to straight news design. Strangely enough, the news copy editors work 3-12, and the features desk works the normal 9-5. I love the news hours but I vastly prefer working on features. Anyway, I'm sure I'm getting a little too journalese, so I'll sign off. More later.

05-31-2002 9:54 AM - comments (0)

on my break

What would I do without my daily dose of Metaboless? Yes, Metaboless. I like how it's just like Metabolife, but its name focuses on how it's cheaper, making it seem less effective. I feel more jittery can't think of anything that jitters. But I'd be more jittery than that.

I've been going through a rough patch recently, and I took it out on poor Michael last night. I hope he understands that I never intend to be mean or inconsiderate.

And I'm giving up alcohol for the summer. I'm proud of myself.

05-30-2002 8:48 AM - comments (0)

in need of psychoanalysis

Last night I dreamt I found some very small dead babies in my backpack. I had to explain to their parents and loved ones that I was somehow in possession of them. Everyone thought I had murdered them, even Michael (at first). But I really had no idea where they came from. Does anyone have any idea why I had that dream? Maybe Christie can help; she seems to be having interesting dreams recently (plus she's a psych major and therefore very adept at dream interpretation).

05-29-2002 8:31 AM - comments (0)

on cloud nine

I am starting to like headline writing. I have the absolute worst time with straight news stuff (no one has a sense of humor in the newspaper industry, it would seem), but writing feature stuff is so much fun. I know it's lame, but when people compliment me on journalism-related accomplishments, I become really ridiculously happy. I think it's because I don't worry about what people think about any other area of my life. They can like or dislike my politics, my clothing, my attitude, my friends, etc. but if they think I'm a bad journalist, I worry.

Sometimes I wonder if I really don't care what other people think of me, or if I've just convinced myself of it. Either way, my self-esteem is a lot better now than it was a couple of years ago. I find it more than a little ironic that the age group with the lowest collective self-esteem is also the age group suffering from the most pressure to be liked. I don't think I would relive those years if you paid me. And coming from someone like me--with significant problems achieving financial stability--that says a lot.

05-28-2002 12:31 PM - comments (0)

oh yeah? i don't need good grades

Argh. I just got my grades for last semester, and two of them are wrong. I mean, off by a lot (and I know all of the individual grades, so I know they're wrong). I was having a good day. I'm not so sure anymore. I'll just have to remember Friday night, when Michael called me on my cell phone (I was mixing with the goth kids at Numbers). He wished me a happy 15-month anniversary, and I was incredibly touched (mainly because he remembered, and I hadn't). My new friends here (the ones who aren't betrothed) seem surprised that people in college can stay together "for so long." After talking to Michael last night, I realized I never think about that. It's one of the few things in my life that just makes sense.

05-28-2002 8:53 AM - comments (0)

the first day

I have computer access! Hooray. We're taking a break from headline writing lessons. I'm having a wonderful time if you can believe it. I'm surrounded by all sorts of geeky editor types who become incensed by "CD's" and people (who never realize who they are, but who work for student newspapers) who confuse "it's" and "its," and "me" and "I." Lucky me, I get to work with some of those people next semester...But for now, everyone is pleasantly interesting, intelligent and laidback. We "toured" Austin last night (pretty much just 6th Street) and went to an empty club and drank $1 well drinks. I went to bed around 12:30 and had to wake up at 7 to shower; I'm fairly certain I'll be waking up later and later each day after we develop routines. Breakfast lasts from 8-9, and I really don't need to be eating for an hour.

Dow Jones is a like the generous rich uncle I never had. Every meal is catered by or at a nice restaurant and we can order whatever we want and as much of it. This does not bode well for my diet. Neither do the lunches that consist of pot roast, biscuits and gravy, green bean casserole and chocolate and brandy bread pudding. One of the girls here wants to get up early to run; if I want to fit into my clothes by the end of the two weeks, I probably should take her up on it. My room is gigantic (and we all have private rooms), but the mattress is like a rock, causing me to have all sorts of disturbing dreams involving scary porn stars and ex-boyfriends.

I was telling Michael last night how weird it is that I feel like part of the group here already. At both Governor's School and college orientation, I was determined to retain my autonomy and identity, and the way I did so was by isolating myself from the hordes of anxious, eager kids. I have serious problems adjusting to new situations; once I've settled in, I wonder why I was ever aloof to begin with. That knowledge does nothing for my first-day jitters.

To all of my Columbia/Spring/elsewhere friends: I don't have time to e-mail anyone today, but I miss you terribly.

05-27-2002 12:56 PM - comments (0)

two hearts that bleed

A good song to get stuck in your head is "I Bleed" by the Pixies. A bad song would be, say, "Cherish" by Madonna. Take a guess as to which one I was stuck with all of last night.

I think Elliott knows I'm leaving. He's been super affectionate, crawling all over me and licking and biting my hair. He slept with me for a bit this morning and I started crying. I'm sort of an emotional basketcase right now. I hope the other copy editors at UT are up for some melodramatic adventure for the next two weeks (courtesy of me). Better than headline writing, I say.

05-26-2002 9:29 AM - comments (0)

be very afraid

I'm leaving tomorrow for Austin. I'm stressed out, frustrated and scared. I probably haven't been the most endearing person to be around recently, but this is very new to me--going somewhere brand-new, having to unpack and move in temporarily and then do the whole thing over in two weeks. I'm not sure how I'm going to survive, but as long as I have internet access, I'll be blogging like mad. Forgive me if I don't for a bit--I'm not sure where and when I'll be able to get on the net.

Also, my stomach is very angry at me for various reasons. I keep telling it to be quiet, but it won't listen. "Nothing but carrots and water for the next two weeks!" I yelled. Then I drank a Dr. Pepper. I am so undisciplined.

05-25-2002 9:18 PM - comments (0)

here's how it's going to be

My grandfather is coming in town today for my brother's graduation. As usual, my parents are going spastic, having us clean and scrub every inch and yelling and screaming more than usual. I don't understand why they're so tense about him coming. I mean, he's been my mother's father for a pretty long time. He should be used to the way things are with us.

So yeah, my little brother's graduating from high school tomorrow. I'm looking forward to the graduation dinner; it's customary (or so I think) to eat out at a really expensive restaurant for events like this, and for once I don't have to worry about ordering the cheapest thing on the menu. Say what you will about my spending habits, but when someone else is buying things for me, I try to be considerate. But not on graduation. Think lobster, pate and chateau brionne, foods I don't think I actually even like normally. On graduation, they're a little piece of heaven for about as much money as I'll be making in a day in Amarillo.

I think when I become wealthy, I'm going to still eat the same things I like now: Sour Patch Kids, pizza, cheese enchiladas, Wild Cherry Pepsi. I've consumed enough wine and champagne to know I don't particularly care for it. I take offense to the way lobster is prepared (boiled alive, as you well know). And I think they probably give you more food at Olive Garden than at upscale restaurants. Also breadsticks. Basically, I want to order in pizza and Olive Garden every night when I'm rich. And instead of getting tense whenever my parents visit, I will have devised a better plan: employ them. My mother can cook and clean, and my father will be the all-purpose handyman. They will, of course, reside in a different wing than my husband and me, and they will go by the names Belvidere and Santiago. What plans I have!

05-24-2002 11:47 AM - comments (0)

the self-professed weirdo magnet

After meandering around the food court at the mall for about 15 minutes (why must Arby's roast beef sandwiches be so expensive? why would someone have Cinnabon for dinner? why would someone allow a business called Wetzel's Pretzels to exist?), I settled on Taco Bell. Yes, yes, I know if they charged five cents more for their chalupas, workers in Mexico would finally make the move from slavery to indentured servitude. It doesn't stop me from liking chalupas. As punishment for my capitalistic tendencies, I suppose, I was forced to stand next to a man who kept jerking his head around to look at me. His eyes were what I would call "serial killer blue." He was slightly balding, thin and fidgety. He kept mumbling things under his breath; that or he was attempting to talk to me, and I'm not sure which is more disconcerting. He ordered the same thing as I did (maybe not so strange, but he even asked for the same sauce and soda), and when we were waiting for our orders to be filled he started ambling towards me and laughing to himself. He seemed to want to say something to me. I stared at my shopping bags so I'd look less approachable (I'm a self-professed weirdo magnet).

He finally grabbed my shoulder (I nearly used some self-defense attacks I learned freshman year; I've been waiting to give someone the "groin treatment"), and asked if I knew where the napkins were. "They put them in the bags," I said sharply, and immediately regretted it. You don't act rude to an insane killer. You treat them as if you thought they were the most non-insane person in the world. I've watched enough Lifetime movies to know that. Thankfully, a little blond toddler came running up to the man and wrapped his arms around him, distracting the psycho from my blunder. "Ah," I thought. "He can't be insane. He has a son. And the son isn't scared." At that moment, the man lifted the boy up and proceeded to kiss the boy's mouth for at least four seconds. He pulled away (for air, I guess) and then started kissing the boy all over his body. The Taco Bell lady looked like she was going to throw up. Maybe I should have grabbed the kid and taken him to the nearest mall security guard, but I got my food and ran to the opposite end of the food court.

Suddenly my chalupas didn't seem so appetizing anymore.

05-23-2002 6:29 PM - comments (0)

there goes my money

My Discover balance is now $40.68. This is the best financial state I've been in in three months. It's time to celebrate (and not in the usual "spend lots of money on totally unnecessary things like clothes, cute underwear, CDs and fast food" kind of way). It is a little sad, though, that I had almost $1000 in my bank account until five minutes ago. And now I have to work for six weeks at the Student News, but six weeks isn't so terribly bad. Okay, so six weeks with the Student News is hell. But it's a hell I've been committed to spend time in, and it's my own fault (see my prescription for the usual celebration, above).

Jeremy just IMed me...he's going to be in Austin when I'm there! I'm really excited to see him--I can't even remember the last time we saw each other. I just hope the wardens from my copy editing training let me have a some time to have fun. Okay, a small confession: I really like editing and I am honestly looking forward to my training. They'll probably get me all new style books and reference guides and the journalism labs at UT are supposed to be amazing.

I am such a geek.

05-23-2002 9:31 AM - comments (0)

okay, fine, i slept on abed

Jen, Christie and I went to Starbucks last night. I feel as if I need to justify myself by explaining that we were only meeting there to figure out what we were actually going to do that night. Starbucks was certainly not going to be our final destination, as Jen and Christie and I are all exciting, interesting people and have lists of places we want to go, and it would take years to actually visit all of those exciting, interesting places. (We never just hang out at Starbucks for hours on end until the personnel ask us to leave when closing time arrives; that would be, like, so suburban.) So we did what any exciting, interesting people living in an exciting, interesting town would do: we went to Blockbuster for half an hour reading movie titles and their lame taglines using weird voices and left without renting anything; drove to the grocery store across the street and nearly ran into this guy we knew from high school while leaving; and drove to my house, where we drank Skyy and Bacardi and listened to the Vanilla Sky soundtrack and the White Stripes. And when those options were exhausted, we resorted to my dad's peach schnapps and a mix CD I had Melissa make for me.

I'm not kidding when I say it was really fun. Oooh! And the guy we almost ran into is named Abed. When I was in high school, the perennial joke was "What did you sleep on last night?" Presumably you would answer "a bed" which sounds eerily like "Abed," inducing lots of teenage giggling. That would be the likely scenario, unless you happened to be resident weirdo Matthew Morrison, in which case you would answer "a bathtub" and probably wouldn't be lying.

Please, please explore his website. Especially if you're having a bad day. I mean, he thinks his name is Rodimus Convoy. Shouldn't that be enough to entice you?

05-22-2002 5:02 PM - comments (0)

the five second rule personality test

It has come to my attention that there are two types of people in the world: those who are disgusted by the thought of food that's fallen on the floor and those who will shrug their shoulders, pick up the food and consume it. I am in the latter category, and it must say volumes about the kind of person I am. It should also serve as a warning that if I offer to cook for you, run away.

My mom called from work today and asked me to pick up some storage bins from Target for her. I had no problem with this request, as I charge an "errand fee" entitling me to odds and ends of things for completing the task. I believe my errand fee for this particular trip will be some more Aussie Mango Smoothy shampoo, contact lens solution and a green flowered two-piece outfit from Express that I've been drooling over for the last few months. Sure it's a little shady, but if you do the crime, you pay the time. Which has absolutely nothing to do with what I'm talking about, but rhyming cliches wrap up my blogs so very nicely.

05-22-2002 10:42 AM - comments (0)

what's another word for spooky?

My wannabe goth boyfriend will be pleased to know that one of his marketing ideas has finally been realized: Woolite now makes a dark fabric preserver. He always used to joke that there should be a detergent that "keeps darks darker." I almost fell off my bed because I was laughing so much at the commercial--the narrator was talking about how "Raven" wanted to keep her black silk ensembles dark. They were trying so hard for the goth appeal. It's too bad Greg Bounds, who tried desperately to be dark and mysterious, didn't have this stuff in high school; his scary goth qualities were surely compromised by the fact that his clothes all faded to a not-so-evil shade of blue.

Jen's rightly disappointed that she and her boyfriend, Paul, won't be going to the Army Ball. She was really looking forward to getting dressed up and seeing her guy in a tux. I suggested that she still have her nails and hair done and make reservations for somewhere posh in Houston (I suggested Cafe Annie and Americas, two very cool restaurants here). They could even rent a Jaguar (XJ8, of course) for the whole event. And champagne must be involved. I hope they come up with something.

My parents can be so sadistic. They're insisting upon feeding my cat wet food while I'm away this summer. I tried telling them he's not supposed to have it (the vet said it was bad for his digestive system), but they don't care. They believe every problem he has (his bowleggedness, his weird meow, the way he sleeps all sprawled out) is due to the fact that I don't feed him wet food. Why is my family so insane??

05-21-2002 1:26 PM - comments (0)

warm, fuzzy bathrobes

Sleeping in my old bed gives me nightmares. But being back home when I'm awake is nice; my brother (who I was worried would be mad at me) is great. My mom bought me a gigantic phone card and made oatmeal chocolate chip cookies for me. My fabulous, elderly (two words that you'll never hear me use together again) purple terrycloth robe--the one I got bleach on by accident and turned sections of it pink--is here where I left it. And after I read the requisite blogs, I'll dye my hair and soak in the tub (our bathtub at 3509 Delmar, aka Scary Ghost, is very small and a wretched place to take a bath). Then again, maybe I won't; my silly brother decided to trim his hair in my tub of all places and "forgot" to rinse it down the drain. I think I speak for the universe when I say that hair is much grosser when it's been removed from one's head. And when it's plastered to a bathtub.

Although the 14-hour trip to Texas was full of adventure and romance, I only care to report on one event: when we were driving by some construction in Missouri, there was a sign made to look like it was written by a child that read: "My mommy and daddy works here. Drive carefully." The "s" in "works" was, as the cliche goes, backwards. And what would the illustious Christie have to say about such a message? "When I saw that sign, it made me want to drive faster and hit that kid's parents because then they'd get worker's comp and could give their kid a better education."

There's no one I'd rather sit in a car for with several hours than Christie.

05-21-2002 7:09 AM - comments (0)


Michael and I picked up my dad at the ghetto fabulous Columbia Regional Airport. We kept pretending that we were lost and we couldn't find the gate my dad was supposed to come into (there are only two gates there). Most airports might be bigger than Columbia Regional, but most airports can't boast vending machines that serve hot and whipped chocolate for $.35.

On the way out, I realized I didn't know where the parking ticket was. I swore that I had put it on my dashboard, but it definitely wasn't there. I had to pull the car over and my dad had to dig down under the windshield to find it (it had mysteriously slipped down there while we were purchasing hot and whipped chocolate). After about five minutes of searching, my dad pulled it out and declared "it's always an adventure with Rachel." See? I'm adventurous!

05-19-2002 3:49 PM - comments (0)

silent sigh

I'm sure I'm not the only one who's sort of grossed out by girly movies. While I thought Bridget Jones's Diary was as cute as the rest of the girls (Christie and Melissa) in my duplex (and half of the world, really), I really like movies with more thought put into them. I want the characters to be complex and entertaining and most of all, I want them to have learned something by the end.

I know talking about movies is getting really old, but About a Boy honestly is one of those romantic comedy-esque movies that isn't sickeningly cute and didn't make every girl in the theater want to hold hands and bond and cry and proclaim they're all just fine without men and all of those things I sort of hate about chick flicks. It was intelligent, subtle humor (who knew Hugh Grant had raphs and phone calls are poor subsitutes for Michael.

05-18-2002 9:44 PM - comments (0)

...but i won't do that

Few things stress me out as much as packing. And packing for this summer is much different than the last time I did this--if I forget something, there was a good chance I'd have a replacement at home. I'm guessing my new apartment is not going to come equipped with extra toothbrushes, CDs I forgot and size eight jeans. For the price I'm paying, it ought to...

The last time I drove home, I got into a horrible wreck and totalled my car. I was a ball of nerves whenever I got into a car for the next couple of months (to tell the truth, whenever a car in front of me stops suddenly, I remember the accident and freak out). This time I was smart. I called my dad and ordered him to fly up and drive me home. He was only too happy to oblige (he was well aware of my poor driving ability years before the accident). He's flying into the Columbia airport tomorrow and we're going to drink beer and eat Shakespeare's pizza all day. Maybe do some packing, too. And maybe I'll just drink Coke.

Oh no. I just remembered that my dad is a CD player Nazi (just like me), which certainly means we'll be listening to Billy Joel, Elton John, the Beatles and Meat Loaf the whole way home. I don't have a problem with the first three, but Meat Loaf? I think maybe he's just trying to torture me.

05-18-2002 9:50 AM - comments (0)

ta da!

Many thanks to the immensely talented Michael, who, despite my constant bullying, redesigned ouranophobe with the graceful patience only a boyfriend could exhibit.

We saw Star Wars Episode II this afternoon. It's funny how watching "a long time ago in a galaxy far, far away" scoll across the screen can fill your throat with an indescribable sense of awe. Seeing little kids outside of the theater, talking excitedly about Jengo Fett, reminded me of my own unadulterated excitement whenever I saw Han Solo and Princess Leia on screen together in Return of the Jedi.

Attack of the Clones didn't disappoint. The dialogue was tired at times, but the plot was surprisingly complicated and captivating. Supreme Chancellor Palpatine still scares me as much as he did in the sequels. Hayden Christensen makes a perfect Anakin--torn between his sense of compassion and need for revenge. If you haven't seen it yet, pay close attention to the scenes following Anakin's discovery of his mother (probably my favorite parts of the movie besides some stuff I won't divulge).

If there's such thing as a true American icon, my vote definitely goes to the Star Wars series.

05-17-2002 8:20 PM - comments (0)

stupidity, clones and final exams

Is it instinct or stupidity that causes people to look around when someone else's cell phone rings? What are you going to accomplish by staring down the person who's receiving a call? It's one thing if it goes off during a class--in my mind, it's okay to give menacing looks to that sort of culprit. But on the bus?

I got tickets for Attack of the Clones today. Christie, Michael and I decided on a matinee so it wouldn't be horribly overcrowded. Some might not appreciate your beauty and acting ability, Hayden, but I do. I do.

And now I must go change clothes because I'm wearing a white t-shirt and I got soaked in the rain today while walking to and from my poli sci final. I look like I was caught in a hurricane and then got run over by an 18-wheeler repeatedly and then set on fire. Not a pretty sight. But I wrote nice essays on globalization and regional trade agreements. That should make me a little more attractive.

05-17-2002 10:19 AM - comments (0)

um, why?

I keep getting e-mails from WIlliam Shatner and his daughter, Lisabeth. Not just one every once in a while--about three a week, but for some reason, the same ones get sent about six times each. So I get about 18 e-mails from William "Bill" Shatner, former captain of the U.S.S. Enterprise, a week. Life is...good?

05-17-2002 7:30 AM - comments (0)

it seems like it will work

As it turns out, Dan was open to my proposal that he give me money to pay off my credit card bill if I worked it off as editor of the Student News in the fall. I figure I'll work about six issues (half the semester), and though it will feel as if I'm not being paid, I won't have to suffer high interest rates on my balance, and the money I earn this summer can actually be saved. He's also thinking of moving publication to Thursday, which means no more weekend production (one of the things I hated most about working there). And this solution appeases everyone--I become debt-free, Dan gets an editor for a bit of time (enough for him to find someone to replace me in six weeks, and I don't have to commit to anything past then). It feels nice.

Of course, in true Rachel fashion, I had nightmares about all of this last night: I had to work there forever, everyone wanted a conservative paper for some reason, I had to look at pictures of dead Haitian soldiers all day, etc. And the money Dan gave to me in the dream was made out of really soft green foam for some reason. (Oooh, that part was fun.)

05-16-2002 8:55 AM - comments (0)

the value of budgeting

If I had a million dollars, a lot of it would go to buying chocolate lasagna from Olive Garden. This statement holds true if I only have $17.

05-15-2002 7:53 PM - comments (0)

hot and nuked

I just watched what I can only guess was meant to be a sexy commercial. It featured a couple, talking about how they always promised they'd do things together once the kids were "gone" (I suppose they meant away at college, not dead). Well, the kids are now gone and what do they decide to do on this momentous occasion? Microwave a "homestyle" Stouffer's entree for two for dinner.

Note to any potential husbands: when our kids are "gone," we better not be eating TV dinners. I'm talking trips to Europe, dinners out and lots of movies. No instant mashed potatoes for this girl.

05-15-2002 9:13 AM - comments (0)

fear and loathing

I think I'm signing the lease to my apartment in Amarillo today. I'm starting to get really anxious about living alone. I don't mind the fact that I'll have a lot of privacy, but I'm working the night shift (3 p.m.-midnight), and I get weird about being alone at night in a city I'm not familiar with.

I'm sure I'll be fine once I move in and get accustomed to my surroundings (read: explored every inch of the mall that's right across the street), but new situations do this to me. I remember being terrified of the following: going to junior high, moving to Texas, going to high school, going to Governor's School (well, I had good reason for being terrified of that place), getting my driver's license, prom, graduation, going to college. It usually turns out that I have nothing to be afraid of, but I manage to feel like I'm the only person who doesn't fit in. In turn, I act as defensive as possible, refusing to have a good time and sleeping a lot. It certainly explains why I become a cranky monster if I don't get at least eight hours of sleep a night.

Is anyone else baffled by Danny Bonaduce's existence? I sometimes turn the TV on to watch The Other Half, that horrid men's version of The View. He's just so...redheaded. I miss Star Jones.

05-15-2002 8:32 AM - comments (0)


Dear God,

Please make sure that the next time I go to Blockbuster or Movie Gallery, a VHS copy of The Man Who Wasn't There is available for me to rent. I only mention this because every time I try to rent it, some fiasco or another ensues. Once, it was my machisimo boyfriend wanting to rent Spy Game instead. Another time, there simply were no copies. Another time, it appeared as if there were a copy, until I realized someone had mistakenly put Mulholland Drive in the box. Tonight at Movie Gallery, the VHS section was sadly devoid of this movie.

Lord and Savior, I need to watch this movie because I feel like I'm going crazy. I keep imagining Billy Bob Thornton discussing haircuts, and it gives me palpitations. Please don't disappoint me. Melissa's going to Blockbuster now, and if she doesn't pick up a copy, I will stop believing in you. It's as simple as that.

(Oh, and I'm still holding out for those bigger breasts you promised me back in junior high. Yes, I know I've grown since then. But I meant it as an annual occurrence, not just some one-time thing.)

05-14-2002 7:49 PM - comments (0)

living with gerd

We get it...Felicity can't decide between Ben and Noel.

I tried to hook up my scanner tonight. I had to dismantle it last year when I finally got my new printer and didn't want to mess with all of the cords. I really wanted to scan some pictures for my site, but after 15 minutes of trying every cable (and uttering "sweet holy Jesus" a dozen times), I gave up.

I did get a nice surprise when I lifted the top of the scanner: a pamphlet I got from a drugstore entitled "Living with Gerd" was just lying there, waiting for me to rediscover it. As it turns out, "Gerd" is gastroesophageal reflux disease, and it causes difficulty in swallowing and persistent hoarseness and cough.

You know what that means, right? The mystery of what that guy in history had is solved!

05-14-2002 5:49 PM - comments (0)

incredibly noncontroversial statements

Gallagher is the unfunniest comedian ever in the history of the world.

I am sick and tired of the Strokes and Michelle Branch. They can go to hell.

05-14-2002 1:55 PM - comments (0)

whose history is this again?

I lucked out on the history final: the New Deal/liberalism question was one of the possible essays. That's the only one I actually worked on at any length, so I was incredibly relieved. That class was such a joke. Our professor was the definition of irrational bureaucratic leader--on the first exam, she wouldn't let us leave if we finished early. We had to wait until everyone was done, which meant I sat in the room staring at the ceiling for half an hour (if I looked anywhere else, one of the vulture-like TAs would have given me a zero for cheating, even though my test booklet was closed). Today wasn't much better. If we finished between 2:00-2:05 or 2:30-2:35, we were "permitted" to leave. I had to rush to get done by 2:05, because I was certainly not going to waste any more time on that class than necessary. Our professor claimed that by arranging the times we were allowed to leave, we would disrupt the rest of the students less.

Ironically enough, a guy a few rows behind me decided a good idea would be to clear his throat loudly (enough for the entire right side of the room to look back angrily at him) the entire time I was taking the test. I'm never going to be able to think about Franklin Roosevelt again without hearing disgusting hacking and wheezing noises, or for that matter, the Great Depression without thinking of the thousands of Americans who turned to homosexuality because "they were so depressed and needed to feel happy again" (according to my professor, who believed every historical event had something to do with homosexuality). Thanks, History 251!

05-14-2002 1:19 PM - comments (0)

where a kid can be a human guinea pig

For our last shebang as Big Sisters (yes, I realize I'm using the word "shebang" incorrectly. But I like it), Christie and I are going to take our little brothers to dinner. I asked Christie to try to think of some family establishments, realizing that Columbia is sadly lacking in Chuck E Cheeses, Ground Rounds and Friendly's. Actually, I'm fairly certain I left part of my soul with a Friendly's chicken fingers kids meal and Reese's Pieces sundae sometime back in the late '80s. Anyhow, here's the list Christie came up with:

Styx Gay Bar and Grill

This list, coupled with her declaration that she would use her children as one big psychological experiment, should leave no question in your mind that Christie must never ever become a parent.

05-14-2002 8:37 AM - comments (0)

a little respect

I'm becoming obsessed with Asia Carrera. Some of you might know her as the famous porn star. Others might associate her with being the porn star who happens to be a member of Mensa. Still others might know that she's a genius porn star who runs a website, which you will soon find out she is very, very proud of. (Let's just say she shouldn't quit her day job.)

Here's a woman who says she'd love to write a script for a porno that involved quantum physics, and one who did write a script for a porno that somehow incorporated Warren Buffett. She's utterly fascinating. And no, my sudden interest in her has nothing to do with any latent desire of mine to become a sex worker. I'm just falling for the (now-cliched) idea that porn stars can be somewhat intelligent. Perhaps a little misguided, but intelligent nonetheless.

05-13-2002 9:33 PM - comments (0)

lock the doors, mabel

I'm strangely addicted to Unsolved Mysteries-type shows. Unsolved Mysteries sucks now; it's always full of sweet, happy reunion stories instead of creepy ghosts and brutal murders. You know, the kind of episodes you watched when you were home alone (or worse, babysitting in a weird house) and kept thinking you're hearing noises from outside and then you got a phone call from someone who just...breathes. The stuff they show on CourtTV is much better (and a welcome distraction from my New Deal essay).

Actually, that reminds me of a time when I watched a Dateline special about this family who finally saved enough money to build their dream house out in the country. The mom reported hearing weird noises at night and getting prank calls constantly. It began to get worse--the caller started singing creepily into the phone and using a voice like the one in Scream (this happened before the movie came out). He called himself Sommy. When the mom turned the TV on, it would just be words: "SOMMY WILL KILL YOU SOMMY SOMMY WILL KILL YOU SOMMY WILL KILL YOU SOMMY WILL KILL YOU." The mom was adequately freaked out, but the police were no help. The toaster would suddenly short-circuit, and the calls became more graphic and persistent.

Finally, after a year of this torture, police discovered it was the family's son that had been behind everything. Somehow he had gotten access to the cable under the house (the cops guessed it was before they even moved in) and would make calls from a cell phone. I was so scared the night I saw that show that I called my friend Travis, but I freaked him out so badly that he was too afraid to get up to use the bathroom. If you can't count on a 16-year-old boy to protect you, who can you count on?

In other news, this is the best personality test I've ever taken. And believe you me, I've taken quite a few.

Monkey Gone To Heaven
You're always the one who stands out in a crowd. People look forward to seeing you. You're well dressed, well-mannered, but spontaneous enough that it's very easy for you to make friends. Your interests include the paranormal and government conspiracies, but you also enjoy sitting back and eating a good meal. You probably have a lot of pets that you take care of obsessively.
Which Pixies song are you?

05-13-2002 7:20 PM - comments (0)

i go about things the wrong way

Instead of writing out the essays that might appear on my history final tomorrow, I am spending time listening to the Smiths, munching on kettle corn (some very nice backwoods boys were selling it outside of the bookstore today) and, of course, compulsively cleaning. And fervently wishing that my last bottle of Febreze would refill itself in the next ten minutes so I can madly spray everything in my room with it. Including you, little kitten. That's right, run. Run to the hills.

I had Michael figure out the chances of the essays I'm choosing to write appearing on the final. The professor gives us four possibilities and will use two of them on the final, from which we then choose one to write. I'm not in the mood to write more than one. Good news--he says there's an 83 percent chance one of the two I write will be on there. So let me know: is it bad that I'm taking my chances? This class just drains all the fun out of 20th century American history, so I think I'm in the right. I used to have a healthy respect for concepts like detente, civil rights and the like. Now I'd rather be...well, eating popcorn and listening to the Smiths.

05-13-2002 5:01 PM - comments (0)

double take

I saw a guy wearing a South Park shirt tucked into tight cowboy jeans (lovingly referred to as "kicker jeans" in Houston) and cowboy boots. The sight alone caused me to nearly wreck my car. Maybe it was a joke?

05-13-2002 12:53 PM - comments (0)

it's not the perfume that you wear

I find it more than a little ironic that I have to print off a dozen articles (something like 50 pages) pertaining to how globalization is hurting the environment for my political science class.

For some reason, I'm watching Shanghai Noon on that movie channel we're getting for free, but on mute. Normally I only watch programming involving Ashton Kutcher on mute, because while I find him extraordinarily attractive, he's as dumb as a rock and I can't stand listening to him. That said, I find neither Owen Wilson nor Jackie Chan to be in that position. But Jackie does have nice dimples when he smiles...

It's about high time I mentioned Alex updates the site often, and always has interesting things to say. Go. But don't fall in love with her, because she's not legal yet.

05-13-2002 8:19 AM - comments (0)

cold, bitter and real

I called my mom to wish her a happy Mother's Day today. The conversation was great at first (despite my finding out that the Fiestaware set I got her was in a color she already had--and I even asked my dad to check before I ordered it!), but then I asked about my brother. It turns out he wasn't around for Mother's Day because he was in Galveston for an after-prom party. I'm not saying he shouldn't have been allowed to go. I'm incredibly upset because when I asked to go to San Antonio after prom with Jen, Christie and Tiffany, my parents refused in no uncertain terms. There was no discussion. I am honestly confused as to how three short years could convince my parents that there's nothing wrong with after-prom parties. It sort of makes me reluctant to want to have children--I would be really concerned with treating each of my kids fairly and consistently. I know it's difficult when you're making up the rules as you go along with the first child, but finding that out today only sent the message that I'm the one they don't trust, which is ridiculous.

I was reading Jen's site today and was struck with something. She was explaining how a boy she knows was prying into her past, and she was surprised to find that certain events/feelings still affect her. It made me realize how afraid we all are to show weakness, and how we will do just about anything to prove that we're living the perfect life. I consider myself to be a generally happy, fortunate person (as you've probably gathered from reading myriad posts about school, my friends and Michael), but I still have rotten days. I still dwell on the past. I still get frustrated and cry. And yes, people still get to me. I'm not saying anything revolutionary here; I just find it sad that so many people focus on how utterly fabulous everyone is, or how enchanted their lives are. Any mention of a bad day seems to be done purely for sympathy or for interest's sake. Anyhow, I wanted to commend Jen (and the dozens of other weblogs out there that reflect life as honestly as possible) for being able to be truthful and real. She's much more complete and complex than the other dizzyingly narrow-minded people who view life as a game to be won and lost.

Besides, if Anna Karenina had absolutely loved everything and everyone was so nice to her and she never had a bad day unless it meant people would do nice things for her to cheer her up, no one would have remembered Leo Tolstoy.

05-12-2002 8:22 PM - comments (0)

per space desired

I bought a new keyboard yesterday at Office Depot. I love it. It's clean, handy and was really cheap ($14.99). Typing on it is also much much quieter than on my last one (seeing as I had to hit the spacebar about five times per space desired).

Michael was here this weekend. He was kind enough to chaffeur Christie, Melissa and me to Shattered. I'm still in disbelief that we were able to convince Christie to come. Well, let's call a spade a spade: Captain Morgan probably had a little more to do with it than my pleading. We had a decent time, though I wish I had less to drink. Melissa had a nasty run-in with her ex-boyfriend Jason (who sneered at me; he must remember the vicious e-mail I sent him last fall in which I called him a 30-year-old loser who thinks because he's read The Stranger that he's cultured).

After we dropped Christie and Melissa off, we went to Steak 'n Shake, where one of my theories held its own: when you order a hamburger and ask for less toppings than it normally comes with, the server will double the amount of toppings you choose to keep on. For example, I wanted my cheeseburger without mayonaise, lettuce tomatoes or onions. In turn, my cheeseburger came to me with double the amount of mustard, ketchup and pickles it would normally have had. And I must ask myself, why do I insist upon developing theories concerning the fast food industry? Does it make me a better person?

Melissa is making us dinner tonight and she said she'd make me pancakes this week. I'm thrilled by this new domestic attitude she's acquired. Melissa--I like my pancakes with a lot of butter and a little bit of syrup. Don't let me down.

From the odd files: Kaity had a date with Alex last night. They hit it off at the Rufus Wainwright concert Friday, and stayed up practically all night talking. They're probably going to have a good time together--they're both extremely kind, empathetic and funny people. It feels weird that two people whom I've known for so long are just now discovering each other's existence. Somehow it makes the universe seem much smaller and nicer.

05-12-2002 4:03 PM - comments (0)

stranded on a desert island

I know you won't believe me when I say this, but posted yesterday. I did. Blogger, who is usually my best friend, has been avoiding me lately. And then there's the sad tale of a cat who, mad because his owner wouldn't play fetch with him, knocked over a glass of water onto her keyboard, thereby ruining it. Or almost ruining it; she can check her inbox, but only to see new mail. If she wants to click on the mail to read it, the cursor starts scrolling down automatically. When she types in, (not a real URL, mind you, just the troubled thoughts of a computerless girl), the period that's supposed to follow the third "w" sends itself to the first "w" and kindly hits enter for her, thus opening the website ".www", which is not a website.

Cruel fate! Or something along those lines. I fancy myself a devastated mortal, clutching my breast (that is what they do, right?) and wait, what the hell am I saying? I remember now why I'm not allowed to post three minutes after I wake up. Christie wants to start a weblog, and I am on Christie's computer. Coincidence? I think not. She really needs a name for it before she starts writing. We're trying to avoid the stereotypical angsty teenager stuff: life is so horrible; I'm so deep and poetic; no one understands me but my keyboard; etc. So the name has to be something nice but not sob-inducing.

In other news, I found myself telling Christie (and then Chase) last night that: "I accept this award on behalf of my potato." I find myself wondering, what potato?

As if my absurd exuberance couldn't get much better (worse?), Christie and I went shopping last night. Damage: nice white capris and pale blue shirt from Express; gren, navy blue and white halter top and light blue boy-cute panties (with a dark-blue fuzzy elastic band!) from American Eagle; black and white striped halter top from Lerner; trip back to American Eagle for two more of said panties in pink and yellow. I feel so relieved! I hate myself! I love my clothes! Help!

Please don't hate me if I got the date wrong, but happy birthday, Doug! Have a great day. And if I'm belated or early, I'm really sorry.

05-10-2002 8:16 AM - comments (0)


(I hear trumpets playing as I say this): I balanced my checkbook sort of correctly! The only change I had forgotten to make was a rebate this psycho international calling place gave me for a call I had made in the Dominican when I was on vacation there in March. I thought it would be noble for me to call Michael (for the third time) using the credit card I pay off instead of the one my parents do. I'm not talking long calls here--what can you really say with two brothers hovering in the room? But we talked for approximately nine minutes, and the charge on my Visa was $55. For nine minutes. So I did what any self-respecting in-debt college student would do: I called the company and said I had not been out of the country at all, and that someone must have used my card number to make the call. They couldn't remove the charge entirely, but they did give me a 40 percent discount. What is it they say about cheaters never winning? Note to ouranophobe readers: I do not condone cheating in any academic setting. In fact, when I know someone is cheating off of me during an exam, I purposely answer every question incorrectly and then redo the test when they've finished copying. I just don't think a call under 10 minutes should be that expensive.

On a bad note, I went a little insane tonight. I had some free time (I got most of my magazine project done today, and for once it looks really neat), so I used my fancy Norton anti-virus, cleaning, organizing, whatever it is software and ran a diagnostic test. I love the sound the program makes when you run the cursor over the buttons. I wish I had clicky buttons on ouranophobe.

Anyway, I also started deleting random programs I had no intention of using, and then I proceeded to back up my hard drive onto zip disks. My grand idea was to get everything onto the disks and then erase it from the computer itself. Bad idea. I somehow ended up losing the html sheet that was my homepage--Michael had designed it for me, and it had links to every site I visit daily. Plus it had a really good picture of him on it, which I won't link to for fear that his fellow ACMers will make fun of him again. Oh, they're just jealous of my gorgeous Italian boyfriend...or that's just how boys are. But I like the former explanation.

One more thing--if I see another worm in my house again, I will drive to the landlord's office myself and give them a piece of my mind. You have no idea. We've been calling them to fix this problem for over a year, and the recent massive storms are really not helping the problem. Sorry to complain, but it's like living in a forest or something sometimes. Also I am a bat.

05-08-2002 10:29 PM - comments (0)

submitted for your approval

I tried posting a few minutes ago, but blogger's been acting like a slow kindergartener, so here goes:

There's this mysterious, strange commercial on TV right now that defies logic. It's a waterpaint of a bottle of wine, and as old-timey music from the '20s plays, the camera zooms out to show the whole scene. But we never find out what the commercial is for. I was confused for a few weeks about it (I've seen it a bunch of times; it's hard to ignore the horrors of locally-produced advertising) until I saw the follow-up. It's for a restaurant called the Potted Steer in Lake Ozark. It makes me want to dance with a 1920s ghost. Actually, it makes me want to dance with a boy who dresses in 1920s clothes, and we dance all night, and we share a tender kiss, and he suddenly has to leave, and when I run out to find him, I stumble upon a graveyard, and I see his grave, and I find out he died in 1925. Oh, no, that's just every episode of Are You Afraid of the Dark?

"Baba O'Riley" is the best song ever. Actually, the Who is a pretty neat band.

Oh Pacey, don't get into that car with that woman! She's crazy, like Cameron Diaz in Vanilla Sky! Only really annoying!

05-08-2002 6:00 PM - comments (0)

wednesday morning

It's so nice to have Michael here on times other than the weekend. I get to come home from class with more than lunch to look forward to; I get to wake up in the morning with more than my cat's eyes to look into. Last night after we watched Spider-Man, we got into the car and drove out to this empty field. We watched the rain pour down the windows and the lightning crash in the distance. And though I may be "the most insane girl ever," I am sane enough to know that I am the luckiest person in the world.

05-08-2002 6:44 AM - comments (0)

academia report

I've had the Grateful Dead's "Uncle John's Band" in my head all night. Can someone explain this to me?

I can't believe how much work I've put off in history and political science. This week I have to read two books, a handful of chapters and tons of reserve/Financial Times articles. I'm going to predict my grades for the semester: Politics of International Economic Relations--B, History--B+ (would have been an A+ had I not missed a quiz while I was on vacation with my family), Magazine Design--B+ or A-, Brit Lit--A or A+. Not such a great semester, but as I said on my poli sci professor's evaluation yesterday, I'm happy to have earned a B in his class. It's challenging, totally new to me and above all, useful information. Who thought a Democrat like me could have learned to love economic liberalism and the WTO? Okay, that's a little exaggerative. I don't love the WTO. But at least I understand what it does and why people dislike it so much. I thought it was just something hippies didn't like, but in reality, it's mainly American labor union workers that feel threatened by globalization. (And now you're wondering why you happened upon my site today. I apologize.)

On that evaluation, which I'm fairly certain every university student has to complete for his/her professors, I was unusually gushing. I really love my professor. He's one of the few teachers I've ever had whos to talk about British soccer and who lets us use crib sheets on the exams. And he's just visiting, so I made sure to suggest that the university tenure him (is that the correct verb?) and raise his salary by a lot. Who cares about budget cuts? Mizzou finally found a competent, engaging professor! We should have a parade or something.

05-07-2002 9:14 AM - comments (0)

a modest proposal

I talked to Dan last night. He had some interesting proposals for me, both involving an extended stay with the Student News. Seems they really need some help for next semester. The one would involve an editor position, and the other a part owner of a new monthly publication he wants to start that's sort of for the Greek community--a Greek photo on front page "but could be echo or arts and entertainment inside." echo was an "alternative" publication (attempting to engage in what's known as new journalism) that I started with some friends that died out because of financial problems. If I were to become a part owner of this new publication, I'd probably aim the entire magazine towards the Greek community, because no one who isn't Greek will pick it up anyway. It's probably the only way I'd stick with a journalistic enterprise--it would have to be something I'm from detached from content-wise and attached to business-wise. The profits would be extremely nice (a lot more lucrative than the Student News, he said). I told him I'd think about it.

Dan's a great guy. He really cares about the future of the paper, and he really cares that I stay on. We differ greatly in our journalistic beliefs, but he's one of the few people who represents advertising that I respect and admire.

But I still have to wonder, did anyone at that paper get the memo that I had resigned? It's starting to become funny...

05-06-2002 7:10 AM - comments (0)

how i learned to stop worrying and love andy rooney

Melissa and Christie kept talking about a surprise they had for me. They pulled me outside, made me sit on a dirty patio chair and had me cover my eyes. When I opened them, I was stunned to see Christie with her bellybutton pierced and Melissa with her stomach tattooed with the Rolling Stones tongue logo. Now Christie's walking around with her pants unzipped and navel exposed and Melissa's flashing her stomach to me, my cat, books and the wall clock.

It seems like everyone is swallowing their fear and getting something pierced or tattooed. Jen's making the exhilarating, terrifying decision to go skydiving. I need to do something crazy. Maybe I'll tattoo something and then have the tattoo pierced. I need to prove I'm not a coward somehow.

Michael and I launched into a quasi-discussion on self-centeredness today. "Everyone is self-centered," I said. "Not true," he replied. "I'm Andy Rooney-centered. Every life decision I make, I think about how it will affect Andy Rooney."

It is nearly impossible not to love my boyfriend. But keep your hands off of him. He's mine.

05-05-2002 9:05 PM - comments (0)

Hell is certainly having to

Hell is certainly having to chew apple-flavored Dubble Bubble gum all day.

05-05-2002 6:41 PM - comments (0)

thoughts from the side of the road

I had a wonderful weekend, as usual. I've been complaining recently that Michael isn't a real boyfriend (only in the sense that most couples live in the same town, and that it's hard sometimes when all I want to do is see him and I have to wait for the weekend). But he's coming to visit me tomorrow for a couple of days--nothing much, but enough to make me deliriously happy and to cease calling him a fake boyfriend.

Spy Game was actually decent. I would have liked it of there had been more time spent on the dialogue, but you don't watch a movie like that for the dialogue. Brad Pitt, as always, was remarkable (not so attractive during the Chinese prison scenes). It's uncanny how much Robert Redford looked like him when he was younger; I wonder if that's why they paired them for the movie?

As I was driving into Columbia today, I saw a homeless man begging for money. I was fishing some quarters out of my purse (all I had on me) when I noticed another message on his sign: WWJD? I angrily put my money back into my purse. I'm sorry, but if you're homeless and rely on the generosity of others to exist, you really ought to be less self-righteous about it. It's one thing to say you're hungry and will work for food (and maybe follow it up with a nice "God bless you"), but to insult us with hypocritical Christian propoganda is going too far. What would Jesus do? Probably tell the guy to spend his Sunday mornings in church or better yet, finding a job, not implying that we owe him anything.

I know that sounds incredibly callous, but I can't help but remember what my friend Ryan said about charity a few years ago. "It shouldn't be an obligation," he said, and he was right. We should be generous because it's in our nature, not because someone demands us to. Excluding the law, we are obligated to no one but ourselves. None of us "owes" anything to anyone. I suppose some people find it easier to blame their problems on others than to take responsibility for their shortcomings.

That said, I believe we would all be better off treating people well. But it has to be something we do because we want to, not because we are guilted into it.

05-05-2002 12:45 PM - comments (0)

a little fuzzy

I have the worst headache right now. I also find that I can't eat as much as I could even a few weeks ago. Half a sandwich means I'm done with lunch; thanks, Metabolife!! Actually, even on days when I don't overdose on caffeine, I eat less. It's nice.

I've been listening to OK Computer a lot recently. My favorite song is probably "Let Down," but I'm starting to really like "The Tourist." I've owned this album for years, but it feels like I'm listening to it for the first time. I love when that happens.

Michael and I are going to watch Saturday Night Live and then that Brad Pitt/Robert Redford movie Spy Game tonight. I can't believe I've let him persuade me to see both that and Blade II (though I'm sure Spy Game will be much better). I told him if we rented it that I'd be making comments like "Look at those eyes. That should be illegal" and "Oooh, sweet ass!" the entire time. My choice was The Man Who Wasn't There, but I'm pretty sure Christie wants to see that with me, so maybe we'll rent it this week. You better believe I won't be making lewd comments about Billy Bob Thornton and Tony Shalhoub...

My links are finally up--again, if you'd like me to mention you, e-mail me. I will also be including links to some of my published work, but the Missourian/Vox's archives are in complete disarray, so it's even hard for me to find my own stuff.

05-04-2002 4:33 PM - comments (0)

um, something smells fishy

There's not much to report on, for it would seem I have a new addiction that is taking up all my time. It's called Insaniquarium, and while I have no idea what the point of it is, I'm hooked. You basically buy guppies and feed them so they turn into bigger fish. The fish somehow give you coins to buy food and more fish (and other creatures--I have a snail and a swordfish now). Then you can buy carnivore fish, whom you feed guppies to. They pay you in diamonds, not coins, so it's more lucrative. But sometimes a weird scary enemy comes and you have to zap it before it eats your fish. I'm not kidding when I say it nears Snood on its addictiveness. Play it here. But don't say I didn't warn you.

Why do I always manage to find some insanely good computer game (or other time-consuming activity) during finals time? I still have a week before my tests, but this is the week, as we know, that our professors decide become hellish demons and assign millions of projects, papers and tests. And here I am, feeding fake fish and collecting diamonds. At least last semester I turned to obsessive cleaning.

05-03-2002 8:39 AM - comments (0)

fairweather friends

It's strange that I haven't posted at all today--usually I'm a machine. Christie and I just enjoyed the ever-so-entertaining movie The Skulls. Besides having the luscious Joshua Jackson and Paul Walker, it offered such lines as "it's over, it's over," "well done, son, well done" and "where is my bag??" (exclaimed during the duel scene, which made no sense). It's a fun movie. Even better is that we're getting the Encore channel for free.

Christie just came into my room and asked if I wanted to come to a psychology lab party with her. I immediately said yes. Then she said "oh, I don't think you can come." She always does stuff like that to me.

05-02-2002 8:56 PM - comments (0)

large and in charge

Tonight was free ice cream night at Baskin Robbins. Christie, Kaity and I all had variations of chocolate. The scoop they gave Christie was tiny. Ironically, a huge fat family who came in all got gigantic cones (at least three scoops) that I know they didn't pay extra for. Let me get this straight--a girl who is trying to gain weight so she's over 100 pounds gets half a scoop, and the members of the Fatty McObese family, who could afford a few less ice cream cones themselves, get gigantor scoops just because they're large and in charge. It reminds me of the scene in the Wedding Singer where Adam Sandler says a guy in the audience is going to have a heart attack if he doesn't get some wedding cake (the funny part is when the guy looks indignant at first and then realizes it's true and shakes his head in agreement).

I hope this doesn't cancel out everything I just said, but Kaity and I were social deviants and got back in the line to get more ice cream. An employee recognized me and asked if I had already gotten my ice cream, to which I obviously said no. I didn't wait in that long line just to tell the truth and be denied my red raspberry sherbet. They didn't ask Kaity because she was clever and covered her head in her jacket hood.

I miss Michael. He went to Indiana to help move some furniture with Dave, and I really want to hear his voice tonight, but I doubt I will be able to. I suppose I'll have to wait until tomorrow...

Tiff and Kaity--I just wanted to let you know you're in my thoughts tonight.

05-01-2002 8:54 PM - comments (0)

small minds

I think I'm hosting a small dinner party tonight. I've been wanting to cook something for a change (no more Healthy Choice frozen dinners for me). I'm making zucchini and cheese manicotti with garlic bread and red wine if anyone in the Columbia area wants to come over. This offer excludes would-be drifters and other undesirable guests. And yes, we're watching Dawson's Creek afterward. I don't care to explain myself on that particular point.

We had yet another fascinating discussion about globalization in my international political economy class. After class, I stayed to talk to my professor about the impact Sept. 11 has had on individual political efficacy (actually, power would be more like it). It seems that in our rush to praise our president, we haven't noticed the dozens of bills pushed through Congress that have had terrible ramifications for the environment, education, women's rights, blue-collar workers and immigrants. As usual with Bush, big business has made terrific progress in its quest to run our government. Cait has graciously posted the entire list of "accomplishments" Bush has had recently.

I would never suggest that Bush was happy that innocent people died, but it would seem that Sept. 11 was just the political situation he needed to ensure his ultra-conservative agenda would pass without opposition and his legacy would be guaranteed. Clinton would be rolling in his grave if he were dead.

05-01-2002 1:53 PM - comments (0)


Today is starting out ridiculously well. One of my English classes got canceled (Ethnic Literature--then again, taking both Major African American Writers and Ethnic Lit might have been overkill) a few weeks ago, but they added a new one recently--Major Women Writers. It's the same time the Ethnic Lit class was, it's in the same building and guess what--the topic is Jane Austen and her Contemporaries! Eeek!

I also weighed myself, and it might be a fluke, but the scale reports that I've lost 5 pounds since starting my "diet." I'm sure it will be more accurate tomorrow, but I will be happy today about it. And I will refrain from buying more Pepperidge Farm Sausalito cookies and finishing off the whole bag in three days.

05-01-2002 8:25 AM - comments (0)